


The Morgue

by HyperactivePuppy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead Body, Dizziness, Embarrassed Sam Winchester, Fainting, Gen, Nausea, Passing Out, Sam faints, Sick Sam Winchester, Sickfic, Vomiting, morgue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14829074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperactivePuppy/pseuds/HyperactivePuppy
Summary: Sam never has a problem with dead bodies. He isn't squeamish--esspecially not after all of the things he has seen. But this time its all a bit too much for him and things don't quite go as planned...Or in other words, Sam gets messed up by a particularly mangled body at the morgue and faints.





	The Morgue

Sam pushed open the glass doors of the morgue and walked up to the front desk. He pulled his FBI badge out of his coat and held it up to the woman at the counter.

“We’re here to see the body from the animal attack,” he said as Dean stepped up next to him.

The woman looked over their badges, gave a curt nod, and led them down the hallway to one of the morgue rooms. “The body only came in last night,” the woman said as she pushed open the door. “And let me warn you—it’s not pretty.” She shuddered and handed Sam a box of latex gloves before heading back to the front desk. 

“We’ve seen it all before,” Dean said, scoffing a laugh as he grabbed a pair of gloves from his brother.

“Right, let’s just focus on the case,” Sam said as the door swung open behind them. 

“I must say, I’m glad the FBI are following up on this case,” a woman who looked to be in her early thirties said as she stepped over to the two men. “You here about the ‘animal attack’ I’m assuming?”

“Ah, yes,” Sam said, holding out his hand to shake. “I’m agent Keith and this is my partner agent Tayler.”

“Right,” she said, taking Sam’s hand. “Dr. Summers.” She smiled and walked over to the drawer slides and pulled the body out. A sheet was covering it and before removing it, she turned to the brothers, eyebrow raised. “Hope you aren’t squeamish,” she chuckled.

Sam coughed a laugh and shook his head.

She smiled and pulled the sheet off. “Alright.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Dean said, grimacing at the torn-up shreds of flesh that dangled from the man.

Really, if one hadn’t known better, they wouldn’t have been able to recognise the body as human. Where the stomach had been, there was now a huge gaping hole. Intestines coiled out, dark and purple with blood.

Sam felt a wave of nausea rise in his throat and brought a hand up to cover his mouth. “Right, okay. Let’s get this over with.” He walked over to the body, cringing as the smell hit him. The body had only been brought in last night, but that didn’t stop it from smelling. Sam shuddered as his gloved hand touched the flesh around the stomach wound. “You said, you thought it was a rabid dog—right?” He asked, voice sounding slightly strained.

“Yes,” Dr. Summers said with a nod. “Although, between you and me, I’ve never seen a dog do something like this. It looks more like a lion.”

“Mm,” Sam agreed, trying not to look at the dark blood that was oozing between his fingers. He dug deeper, and suddenly whipped his hand back as he touched something warm and slimy. For a moment he could have sworn he felt something inside the man _twitch_ , but when he put his hand back, all he felt was slimy pus. “That’s weird…” he commented, frowning. “There wouldn’t have been enough time for infection to set in if he died right after the attack.”

“Dude, gross!” Dean commented as Sam pulled out a handful of greenish pus.

Sam had to agree. He had examined a lot of dead bodies in his life and prided himself on his ability to separate himself from the horrible experience and keep his stomach in place. But today wasn’t going like it usually did. As his eyes travelled over the blood-soaked pus in his hand, he suddenly realised that he didn’t feel that well. No, he _really_ didn’t feel that well.

Dean was looking at him with narrowed eyes. “You okay, Sammy?” he asked. “No offence, but you’re looking a little pale. Scratch that, a lot pale.”

Sam nodded vaguely and stuck his hand back inside the man’s stomach. He needed to find the source of the pus. It didn’t make sense. He pulled back the layers of skin, trying to get a glimpse inside. But as he peered at the exposed flesh, he realised his vision had gone blurry. He felt a wave of light-headedness sweep through him and he stumbled as he took a step back from the table.

“Sam?” Dean asked, taking a step towards his brother. Sam’s face was sheet white and he recognised the look of someone who was about to faint.

Sam could feel the room starting to spin around him and he felt like he was going to throw up. He leaned forward, grabbing at the edge of the morgue table as his knees buckled. It was okay. He was fine. Just a little dizzy. Then he would be fine.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the cold tile floor, looking up into the amused eyes of his brother and the concerned face of Dr. Summers.

“Dude, you are so never living this down,” Dean chuckled.

Sam didn’t have to ask what had happened. He knew. And he was mortified. He swallowed and looked away, pushing himself up from the floor.

“Whoa, hold on. Just give yourself a minute,” Dr. Summers said. She was kneeling down next to him and had reached forward to push him back to the floor.

“I should have realised when you got so pale,” she said with a kind smile. “It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened. 

Sam wanted to tell her about all the bodies he had examined and how he NEVER usually fainted, but he still felt kind of sick.

As if she could read his mind, Dr. Summers rested a hand against his forehead.

Sam felt himself flush with embarrassment as he caught sight of Dean’s amused face.

“No fever, just clammy,” she said. “Let’s get you something to drink, okay? Do you think you’re ready to sit up?” Sam nodded, even though the movement made him feel even more nauseous. As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough as it was… 

Sam pulled himself upright and tried not to look at the body that still lay exposed on the examining table behind him. If he so much as glanced at it now, he was sure he would throw up.

“Here,” Dr. Summers said, pressing a glass of water into his hand. “Drink it slowly. Then when you’re feeling a little better try some food.” She smiled at him and Sam tried to smile back. He was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace, but he didn’t really care.

He took the water and sipped at it slowly. Dean was eyeing him in amusement and he gave his brother a warning glare.

Sam took another sip of the water and then set it down on the counter. It wasn’t settling well and he really didn’t feel up to putting anything more in his stomach just yet. 

Dean had turned his attention back to Dr. Summers and was questioning her about the case. Sam was glad to have the attention off of him, but his relief was short lived. He was starting to feel really sick again and his ears were buzzing. 

 _I need to sit down,_ he thought, and a moment later he was in the chair by the door with his head between his knees.

“There we go, just breathe,” Dean’s voice said from somewhere above him. “Should have taken it slower Sammy. Wow, the body really did a number on you didn’t it?”

Sam didn’t answer. He was concentrating on not passing out. Or throwing up. Both of which were very real, very horrible threats.

“D’n—” he tried to warn, but he was already gagging. He brought a hand up to his mouth as he dry heaved over the floor. He gasped and tried to sit up, but he was too dizzy and the next heave brought warm liquid shooting out from between his fingers to puddle on the floor.

“Shit!” Dean cursed, waving wordlessly at Dr. Summers as his brother continued to bring up half-digested food onto the morgue floor.

She had already grabbed the trash can from the corner of the room and was shoving it in front of Sam.

Dean pulled back his brother’s hair, pushing his head over the bin as he brought up another mouthful of brown liquid.

“Whoa, Sammy. It really messed you up, huh?”

“Shu-dup,” Sam gulped between heaves.

Dean sighed and rubbed his brother’s back as he smiled apologetically at Dr. Summers.

“Sorry about this. He usually has a better stomach for this sort of thing…” he said, unable to help a little teasing. 

“You didn’t have your hand inside him,” Sam groaned.

It was a full ten minutes before Sam even thought about taking his head out of the trash can. He was shaky and hot and his throat was on fire. He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and not looking at anyone. 

“I think you best get him out of here,” Dr. Summers said, grimacing slightly at the mess on the floor. 

Dean nodded and lifted his swaying brother from the chair. “Yes… before he messes up the hallway too.”

Sam glared at Dean but didn’t dare opening his mouth.

He didn’t say anything until he was back in the Impala with his head rested against the window.

“Don’t ever mention this again,” he growled.

“Dude are you kidding? This is way too priceless.” He laughed a started the engine. “I still can’t believe you fainted at the sight of a little blood and guts? Really Sammy…” He chuckled to himself and drove off away from the morgue.


End file.
